


Trellis

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Series: Prompt Responses [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gardener Castiel, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://robotmango.tumblr.com/">robotmango</a>: cas and enochian. what does it mean, now? what language does he dream in? cas and languages in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trellis

Cas sings to their herb garden and their garden explodes with life.

Dean and Sam met an old witch a long time ago who meant no harm. Reported on the young coven in her neighborhood, in fact. Led the brothers right to the little brats. All she wanted was to be left alone. She sang to her gods in her garden and she held that her garden was her reward for her dedication to the earth and the Mother.

Her garden was really something. The flowers bright, the herbs plentiful, leaves unblemished.

It was almost as beautiful as this.

Dean has a really dim memory of his mom singing when she watered the African Violet on the windowsill in the kitchen. Dean tries it when he's out in the garden helping Cas. He puts down three blueberry bushes for himself and they don't take to the singing like the yarrow and sage do to Cas's Enochian hymns.

Cas has to save them, a few weeks later, when they look yellowed and pathetic. Under his attention, they flourish.

At night, in the dark, Cas can no longer put Dean's demons to rest. He can't make the nightmares stop, though his presence helps to tame them. A tap of Castiel's fingers will no longer put him down but his hands wander, instead, to Dean's back and his chest. He caresses first and then his fingers will linger. They sweep invisible characters across Dean's skin and he could swear he woke up feeling better.

The words don't get written down. Cas doesn't take notes in Enochian or scrawl in the margins of their old books in anything but English. He seeks to make things clear for Sam, to help him in his research. He'll translate out an entire Greek book, by hand. He doesn't confuse his languages. Except when Dean will hear him talking to himself, digging for something in the archives. He'll hear distinct words muttered in both English and Enochian. Enochlish. But aloud, to anyone else, he will only seek clarity. He will only speak  _their_  language.

Dean thinks maybe Cas is keeping that to himself. He knows what Dean thinks of prayer and, after everything, if Cas is still living in prayer, he won't take that solace away from him or seek to intrude. No matter how cruel it looks from the outside. No matter how cynical Dean is of whoever might be left up there to hear Cas's words.

One day, Dean hums to himself as he rakes weeds out of the garden in Cas's wake. He doesn't know he's doing it until Cas stops to look at him. He's heard Cas sing it so many times before. He can't really flub through the words, but he's got the sound of it and before he knows it he's got Cas's gloved hands spreading black soil on the back of his neck, pulling his mouth forward to taste the sound on his lips. Cas doesn't teach him the words, but eventually he learns anyway.


End file.
